


A Skein in Flight

by SharpestScalpel



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Geese, Goose-typical violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soulmates, The soulmate goose of enforcement - Freeform, all the redshirts survive, space goose, this isn't actually that weird for TOS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 19:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17249894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestScalpel/pseuds/SharpestScalpel
Summary: Captain's log, personal. Stardate 4713.2. After a transporter accident during which an unknown bird-like creature beamed aboard the Enterprise, I find myself in new emotional circumstances. I can't bring myself to regret any of these events.-Sometimes it takes an alien space goose to knock three men out of their too-isolated ways.-Concept based on Boxstorm's Check, Please! AU:"soulmate au where one person finds a goose who leads them to the other person. the difficulty comes in not being mauled by a goose"





	A Skein in Flight

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a gift fic for a friend. Hurt/comfort, their preferences said. 700 word minimum, the rules of the fic exchange said. And then I saw this tag on the AO3 tag-of-the-day tumblr. 
> 
> So that happened.

Spock knows the mathematical probability: over three million class M planets in the Milky Way galaxy alone. One out of every 43,000 planets, as an estimate. And yet the discovery of another, watching Alathfar 3 rise to fill the main view screen on the bridge of the Enterprise—he will admit to nothing so human as awe. But curiosity, Spock has an abundance of curiosity. 

He stands behind his captain’s left shoulder, a position which he has found increasingly comfortable whenever Jim Kirk takes his place in the command chair. It allows him to observe without being subject to Jim’s thoughtful gaze. Spock does not allow himself to often consider why he prefers to observe.

“Beautiful, isn’t it, Mister Spock?” Jim leans back and his shoulder brushes Spock’s arm. He gestures at the blue and purple and green sphere growing closer with every moment.

“Beauty, Captain, is transitory.” It is a true and logical statement. This planet, like so many others, will dim in the memory and lose the attractiveness of novelty. Or it will be colonized, as other planets are, humans and the rest of the Federated planets spreading their habitation in a way that is by turns magnificent and troubling. But once the words are spoken, Spock wishes he could recall them. There is no virtue in lessening Jim’s enthusiasms. 

Fortunately, his captain does not seem to mind. Instead he chuckles and Spock does not let the warmth the sound elicits overwhelm him. He has had much practice in this of late.

The bridge doors open, and Spock needs not look to recognize the stride of Dr. McCoy. Leonard is a distinct man; his mannerisms stand out to Spock even in a room full of exceptional individuals. He is reluctant to admit that this stirs irritation within him—such an emotional response is both illogical and also simply ill-advised. The doctor, perhaps hypocritically for a man of science, thrives on emotionalism. And yet Spock cannot set aside the importance of the unlikely friendship between them anymore than he can set aside the steadiness he feels at Jim’s side.

The problem of their interpersonal entanglement is one for another moment, Spock thinks. The paths of logic must be continually walked. And in the meantime, Spock will consider the teachings of Surak: _what is, is_.

#

“Come on, Jim, you need a vacation and this planet, it’s got it all—well, everything but intelligent life. The skies are even blue.” Leonard pours generous measures of Romulan ale into two glasses, then carries them to where Jim sits, too tense, on his couch. “Don’t make me prescribe some R&R for you.”

Jim laughs but it’s muted. He accepts the drink that’s passed to him, but he stares into it instead of downing it. “Once we clear the surface, make sure it’s safe, maybe. But security needs the break more than I do.”

Leonard contemplates his own beverage, the deep cerulean heart of it that enraptures just as much as the smooth burn. He drinks too much, has a lot to forget, to regret. That includes the three security officers that died on their last planet-side mission. Only one made it to his Sickbay. And by then… Leonard sighs. He has to be mostly concerned with the living or this business would be impossible. But he feels the weight of the dead, the lost. He knows it sits heavier on Jim, the responsibility for all of them. Four hundred and thirty people in the usual ship’s complement, now four hundred and twenty-seven.

The thing Leonard will never confess to anyone is that, even in his lowest moments, this is as good as his life has ever been. Maybe that’s the difference between him and everyone else on this god-forsaken space vessel. Leonard has rolled his eyes—in the privacy of his office, at least—near daily at the antics of this crew. They all seem to expect only the very best, only good things to happen.

That’s not entirely fair, he supposes. Spock doesn’t seem to have much in the way of those sorts of expectations. Instead he’s saddled with a superiority complex that constantly wars with his fascination for the human condition. It’s the kind of thing that makes perfect sense, given what Leonard’s picked up about Spock’s upbringing. So Leonard takes too much pleasure in needling him, but he reckons he’s entitled to a few vices. If the worst he gets up to is drinking and aggravating their Vulcan first officer, he’s not going to feel bad. Not when there are so many other things to feel terrible about.

At the moment, he’s after distraction; Leonard takes a scorching blue swallow, savors how all-encompassing it is. When he inhales, it’s easier than breathing has been since he closed out those three medical records.

He reaches out and clasps Jim’s knee. He has to clear his throat to speak. “Don’t waste that drink.” It’s not much as comfort goes, but it’s what Jim will allow.

#

Sleeping with his yeoman would be a mistake. Jim knows this like he knows he’s got a reputation for promiscuity that gets whispered to anyone of any gender who winds up in the job. When he was new to his captaincy, it just seemed to be one of those things that happened: too-frequent spikes of adrenaline and exultation combined with the confinement of his ship, the mission driving everything.

He tries to think with his dick a lot less now but it’s hard to shake the expectations. He compensates by keeping himself apart more than he used to, putting more distance between himself and everyone else. It’s lonely but it’s more professional, he thinks.

The only time he regrets it at all is in moments like this. His quarters are warm, welcoming as they ever are. His bed is a decent size—downright luxurious by shipboard standards. It’s just…

Jim hesitates to use the word lonely. It feels selfish. He’s the captain, and he should be above those sorts of complaints. His ship should be enough to keep him company. He responds to her warp engines the way he would to a lover’s heartbeat.

Scotty might be the only one onboard who understands that feeling. Jim can’t help the chuckle that moves him. He rearranges his pillow again.

The truth is no matter how much he loves his ship, she doesn’t have a body to wrap himself around, can’t be the companionship he craves in the darkest part of gamma shift. Spock and Leonard are the only ones to touch him, to ignore the boundaries and strictures of rank and regulation.

Yeoman Tobias, lieutenant junior grade, is intelligent and capable—qualities that Jim has always found attractive. They’ve also made it very obvious they would be receptive to any advance Jim might make. At the start of this mission, he probably would have gone for it. Now they just seem so young, the experience and perspective gap between them too wide. Jim has a better understanding of his own power, the authority his position really conveys.

He doesn’t have any interest in taking advantage.

Unfortunately, he thinks, that leaves him with too much time to think about Leonard and Spock, the way he trusts them with his life and what that kind of intimacy means. They understand the demands of the captaincy, they’ll never ask him not to love the Enterprise, and they’re both…easy on the eyes.

Jim’s sacrificed a lot to earn his position. He’s only a little bitter that he’s got to sacrifice having either one of them, too.

#

The security detail that beams down to the surface of Alathfar 3 is ready for the worst. Nothing terrible happens and then nothing terrible continues to happen. They’re hardly amateurs though—they’ve survived the loss of too many compatriots to let their guard down. So the report that goes back up to the ship is thorough and complete. The landing party finds:

• An atmosphere rich in nitrogen and oxygen, containing nucleogenic particles  
• A surface abundant in water, with signs of geological activity  
• A planetary core consisting of nickel-iron, according to sensor scans and samples  
• A variety of ecosystems, with abundant flora and fauna, though no signs of intelligent lifeforms  
• A gravity slightly less than that maintained on the ship  


Their report omits the overwhelming sense of relief each and every one of them feel, like they are walking out from a storm-battered shelter into the embrace of clear skies and the sun. They do not note the hope that rises within them that, just for once, every crew member on the Enterprise who wears a red shirt will survive to see what comes next.

Instead, they return to the landing site, let the transporter officer lock on to their coordinates and beam them back aboard. It goes well; it goes as expected.

Until, just at the moment Crewman Reyes dematerializes, a large bird-like animal flaps its way into the transporter beam, too.

That’s when everything goes to hell.

#

Spock does not run. But he does move with urgency through the halls from his quarters to the bridge, as is the protocol when alarm klaxons begin blaring. His place is at his station, supporting his captain. Or, should the worst happen, leading the crew in such efforts as are appropriate to ensure the safety and continued well-being of the ship.

“Lieutenant Darwish, report.” Spock moves for the command chair in Jim’s absence. The lieutenant cedes it without hesitation.

“Sir, a lifeform from the planet disrupted the transporter beam. Lieutenant Broken Tree, transporter operator on duty, was attacked and the lifeform escaped.” Darwish moves to the science station. “Sir, readings indicate that the lifeform is headed for the captain’s quarters.”

“I presume security is in pursuit?” Spock maintains a calm focus as he uses the chair’s controls to raise Jim’s quarters. “Captain, please secure the door for your own protection.”

The comm line opens and Spock expects an affirmative response. Instead, there are several voices shouting, underscored by a raucous honking vocalization. Spock tightens his grip on the arm of the chair. “Captain?” He has not identified Jim in the sound of the melee.

While the chain of command exists for just this kind of circumstance, Spock entertains a brief mental digression: himself, rising from the command chair and storming through the corridors to Jim’s side. The cause, he thinks, could only be found sufficient. However, Jim would not thank him. Instead, he leaves the comm line open and he listens, the rest of the gamma shift duty crew just as attentive, to the events unfolding out of their reach.

#

“Get out of my damn way.” Leonard’s boots are not fastened, and his uniform is sloppy. He eels past crew members heading for their emergency stations. He had too much to drink and fell asleep in his chair, never even made it to bed. He’s sober now, though, heart racing and adrenaline sharpening his focus. He takes the corner too fast and nearly runs into the tightly clustered group of security guards who have huddled together, phasers out. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Dr. McCoy, keep back.” Reyes looks like she’s seen the thick of the shit, hair going every which direction and full of feathers. She gets between him and Jim’s door, which is the source of most of the god-awful noise, the part that isn’t security officers caterwauling.

He isn’t foolish enough to try to go through her—Reyes knows her job. But he bends and cranes so he can see what’s happening.

The hissing and barking pause and Leonard’s blood runs cold at the silence. He’s been on the other end of that kind of quiet before and it’s never boded well. He straightens up, but it’s too late; the flapping monstrosity at Jim’s door flings itself into the cluster of security guards, demonstrating no fear of their phasers, and heads straight for Leonard.

“Holy shit.” He keeps up a running train of cursing and retreat, but the animal sticks to his legs like butter to bread, like biscuits to ribs. The beast slips around behind him, goes for his ankles. “It’s got goddamn teeth.”

#

He’s trusted security to deal with whatever is happening, but Leonard’s panic is unmistakable, and Jim can’t just sit there and let whatever is happening happen without his involvement. He grabs his phaser, opens his door, and heads into the corridor.

“Captain, no.” Martinez jumps in front of him, but the alien has already swung its long neck around and spotted the opportunity presented by the captain’s entry into the fray.

The beast drives Leonard forward, all sharp jabs of its beak and too-strong beats of its wings. Jim realizes, in the half-second he has before Leonard falls against him, that the creature resembles nothing so much as a really large goose from back home. He stumbles, Leonard’s weight and momentum pushing them both back into his quarters. The door closes automatically, leaving the honking nightmare on the outside with the security officers.

He catches Leonard by the man’s biceps to steady him. “Did that look like a goose to you?” As many unexpected things as they’ve seen, for some reason this is what catches him off guard.

Leonard gives him a wild-eyed look. “I’m a doctor, Jim. Not an ornithologist.”

“No, not an ornithologist.” Jim realizes then how close they’re standing. Inappropriate. He drops his hands. “Initial reports indicated no intelligent life on the planet, yet that…creature seemed determined to drive you into my quarters.” It hadn’t responded to any of the security officers like that.

The doctor slumps back against the wall. “What are you saying?” His ankles are throbbing, and he thinks he’s bleeding down into one sock, but he’ll deal with it later.

Jim makes himself back off, turns and heads for his small sitting area so he can think without the urge to fix Leonard’s uniform distracting him. “All I’m saying is that we’ve encountered more forms of intelligence than we ever expected. What could that creature’s intent be?”

A shout from outside catches his attention. The noise lessens.

“Captain, this is Reyes. The creature is on the move.” She sounds frustrated more than afraid now that no one is under direct attack.

Leonard rolls his eyes. He knows exactly what’s coming.

Jim smiles at him anyway. “Crewman, follow it. See what it wants. Use lethal force only as a last resort.”

#

Reyes thought she was going to have a good day. She got to go planetside, which is the whole reason she enlisted in the first place. Travel the galaxy, they said. Visit uncharted worlds, they said. No one at the recruiting office said anything about experiencing her molecules mixing with an alien lifeform during a transport and coming out on the other side with the vague sense memory of having a serrated tongue and webbed feet.

And of course the captain wants them to investigate rather than eliminating the threat. The damn bird—because that’s what it looks like to her, a great big maldito pájaro—is heading for the bridge and Commander Spock is going to back that order because he’s a giant pacifist, which doesn’t make any sense to her but she’s just security, what does she know?

What she knows is that the alien forced the ship’s chief medical officer into the captain’s quarters and anything that wants all of her commanding officers in one place is probably up to no good. Especially when it’s already drawn blood down in the transporter room.

She and her cohort hotfoot after the thing, though. It moves faster than she would have expected, like it knows where it’s headed. Reyes keeps her phaser out, just in case.

#

The gamma shift duty crew waits. There is a tension thrumming through the bridge and Spock is the calm at the center of it. Security has alerted them, and Spock has surveillance footage on the main viewer. The creature is moving with certainty and purpose that Spock can only surmise indicates a certain level of unsuspected intelligence. Navigating the serpentine corridors of a starship without a guide when one has supposedly never even escaped the atmosphere of one’s planet is not for the faint of heart.

He remains steady, however. Spock has cast out fear. The feat became manageable as soon as he learned Leonard and Jim were safe. Now he is, predictably, curious. There are legends he discarded as illogical when he was a child. But even then his father advised him that it is best to accept that which one does not expect.

The bridge doors open. The alien enters. Security trails it, phasers at the ready, but they keep their distance. Spock appreciates their restraint. There is no returning life to that which they kill, after all. And he prefers to do no harm even to those that harm him, in as much as possible.

It is a different matter should his captain or the doctor be harmed, he has realized, but that is again a matter for contemplation in other moments.

For now, the beast that has so terrorized the corridors of the ship approaches, not with violence and antagonism but with a head held low and a sly, too-aware gaze. There is more awareness there than should be possible.

The creature itself is large of body, round and covered with what Spock thinks he will later describe as downy feathers, perhaps similar to fur in purpose. The wings are also large, strong and with a great range of motion. He thinks, in the lesser gravity of the planet’s surface, this animal must be capable of long-distance flight. The teeth are unexpected, as are the talons that protrude from its webbed feet. A predator by nature, he thinks. Aquatic.

It comes closer to where he sits in the command chair, raises its head to meet his steady gaze.

Spock knows what he must do.

#

Leonard leans in closer to the tiny view screen in Jim’s quarters. “Is that pointy-eared asshole about to do what I think he’s about to do?”

Jim watches Leonard watch as Spock stands up from the command chair and kneels on the floor in front of the alien, his elegant hand extended. He sighs because he needs to catch his breath, this close to having what he isn’t allowed. “You know what he’s like.” Privately, Jim thinks Spock is a little bit…he hates to use the word _easy_. It’s just that all the other Vulcans he knows seem to regard the mind meld as somewhat sacred. And yet Spock deploys it frequently. Not that Jim’s complaining. He’d let Spock mind meld with him, too, if he were given the opportunity. “It’s a chance at contact, Bones. Stop complaining.”

Their shoulders brush—Jim leans into the touch.

“If the thing is on the bridge, couldn’t we get out of here?” He sounds like he’s reaching for his usual casual tone and finding it more difficult than usual.

That’s one thing Jim’s noticed about his old friend: Leonard’s never been good at just waiting, no matter how much of it he’s had to practice. They have that in common.

As much as Jim’s always been a captain willing to take action, in this instance he wants to see how things plays out. “Let’s see how it develops.” He shifts his weight—excuses it to himself because the view screen is so small and he can’t see—and presses tight to Leonard’s side.

#

Consciousness merges. The swirl of sensation fills their bodies, green blood and purple blood flowing to the same pulse, beating like leaving the ground and soaring, the updrafts and thermals as clear to them as the contours of hills and valleys. They shake together, four limbs different from four limbs, eight limbs together that do not map to neural paths and so the data is confusing, overwhelming, unknowable.

Despite this, emotion thrums like engines and hearts and the connections that have been made without recognition of cosmic significance. There is one vast field before them, stars and dust and void, and they travel through it at greater speed than should be possible.

Even the void is not empty, filled with potential and hope, an optimism that moves like light, photons spinning off into journeys that cannot be predicted. If their speed and position could be measured, the greatest mysteries of life would be unraveled.

One thing resolves against the great spinning backdrop of the galaxy, a singular knowledge that swells through their bodies like a low tidal sound, pulling them forward without regard until they understand. There is purpose, there is comprehension, and in the face of this, they mesh more tightly together in confirmation with one inhalation and then the connection spirals away from the center that held them as one.

#

Spock reels back, catches himself with one hand on the floor of the bridge. The alien regards him and then its beak opens. The honking cry it gives is enough to motivate Spock to his feet. He will not receive any further patience, he knows. “Lieutenant Darwish, the bridge is yours.”

The animal hisses in warning. Spock moves quickly, with a destination clear in his mind but also with a desire to avoid the consequences of being perceived as reluctant. He knows why the creature is here. It will accept nothing but compliance.

“Captain, I’ll be at your quarters momentarily.” The beast keeps close to his heels and security trails behind, a parade of absurdity that Spock would ordinarily not tolerate. However, nothing about this situation is normal; he will review the standard operating procedures for these scenarios at a later date and implement a process improvement review.

In the meantime, Jim’s door looms before him. Before he can request entry, the door slides open. He darts in, commands it closed before the alien can join them. It will wait, he knows with the certainty of understanding its motivations, its purpose.

Now he simply has to…inform Jim and Leonard. Spock takes a deep breath and reminds himself: _The calm mind is the mind that truly knows._ He knows. He has known.

#

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Reyes eyes the bird where it’s settled down in the captain’s doorway. It looks serene until she steps too close. Then it makes that demon barking sound and bares its teeth. She retreats again. “So, what? Now we just wait while this thing has our commanding officers trapped?”

They better get an extra leave period for putting up with this.

#

There are three men in a room, three men who have dedicated themselves to exploring the furthest unexplored reaches of a near-limitless frontier. Their very lives depend on each other, the trust they share tested regularly not only by events but also by the close confines of the ship they call home. The harsh mistress of their mission has bent her head and turned her hands to shape them, to refine each man until he complements the others.

Too much burns between them for the universe to ignore. And so, one of the men explains to the others, they are bound.

Soulmates, some cultures they have encountered might call it. A mingling, a sharing of katra. Not predestined but inevitable just the same.

The three men in a room turn to one another. What is this but another aspect of their ongoing adventure? What can they do but boldly face this strange new world created among them, by them?

Individual doubts cannot matter—there is no room to turn away. They reach for each other, clasp hands in a gesture that makes one of them flush deeply. This changes nothing. This changes everything. Separately, they have been too long alone. Together, they will never be alone again.

# BONUS SCENE #

Leonard winces as the three of them walk from Jim’s quarters to the transporter room, following their alien guest, with security still trailing behind, just in case. Once they’d given in to the…he doesn’t know if bond is the right word but that’s what it feels like, a rope that hooks right through his chest so he’s tied to Jim and to Spock. But once they’d given in and touched, the creature had settled right the hell down and been all sorts of compliant about being herded down the corridor.

They’re going to beam this awful thing right back down to the surface and then post beacons to keep other ships away if they know what’s good for them.

Maybe that’s unfair, he thinks. The alien did them a favor. He’ll just be happier with how things turned out once he gets a chance to take care of his ankle. He winces again and Spock tightens his grip, shifts so that Leonard can lean on him.

Spock’s strong. Leonard likes that in a man.

“Bones, you should have said something.” Jim scolds him from Leonard’s other side.

And isn’t that rich? Jim never has met an injury he hasn’t found a way to minimize.

“I thought we had some other concerns at the time and then things got really interesting. Just get me back to Sickbay once we’re done bidding our friend here goodbye.” He leans on Spock a little more heavily. Not because he has to. Just because Spock is really warm. That’s going to be a bonus. Leonard runs cold.

The Vulcan under consideration moves again, this time to wrap his supporting arm around Leonard’s waist. It makes walking in a straight line easier and has the additional benefit of notching them up against each other like puzzle pieces. Leonard is all set to enjoy it until Spock opens his mouth.

“Doctor, I believe I know the instruction that currently applies.” His eyes twinkle in the corridor lights.

Leonard braces for it.

“Physician,” Spock smirks, “heal thyself.”

This is his life now. And Leonard couldn’t be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, it's been two and a half years since I last posted a fic. Sorry about that.
> 
> I wrote this in a very feverish two days and it hasn't been, like, betaed. It's barely been edited. Feel free to let me know if there's a typo, but - being real here: this is a soulmate fic with a space goose of destiny. I hope you enjoy it for what it is.
> 
> And, hey, I'm on tumblr, @sharpestscalpel, at least for a little while. <3


End file.
